


Basin Street Blues

by Litastic



Series: Shots of Jupiter [1]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Gen, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 14:58:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Litastic/pseuds/Litastic
Summary: A short insight to an up and coming businesswoman and her rise to the riches. Inspired by talks of a genderbent Vlad Masters. All my gratitude to Haiju and Luna for helping me edit. Song is as the title says, Basin Street Blues sung by Ella Fitzgerald.





	Basin Street Blues

Smooth jazz wafts through the room from an old record player. The sound waves travel seamlessly through the atmosphere. Despite the muffled static noise, it glosses over the thunderstorm outside like warm honey.

_Won't you come along with me…To the Mississippi…_

The music drifts along the massive hallways, slowly but surely making its way to the main event, curious to be entertained by the crowd than to entertain.

Glasses clink on tables, lively but controlled chattering fills the grand living room. Lavish furniture aligns perfectly in every angle of the spacious meeting point adorned with cushions and pillows made from fabric displaying the owner's constant travels. Rich colours of carpet and wood complement each other like a well-tailored suit. The ceiling stretches for what seems a lifetime; it's surprising that the mansion isn't deemed a skyscraper.

Here, a gathering of the elite upper class men and women permeate the atmosphere with a sense of superiority and esteem. Talks of big businesses, expensive buys, money flowing grossly out of sharply pressed pockets are seen as simple small talk.

Amidst the crowd of three-piece Italian suits, jewelry whose costs could feed an entire nation, and silk gowns, a lady clad in a sharp dress suit struts across the room with a stout glass of swirling amber liquid in each delicate hand.

A man catches her eye. Those eyes seem to sparkle like the crystals in the chandelier that floats above them and she smiles deviously. He nonchalantly brushes off the portly man he was addressing not moments before to accept the drink and rests a large hand on the small of her back. He takes a generous sip as he cradles her close to his sturdy figure.

Such a sight would be considered rare if you knew the man. He would never let a woman within five feet from him just weeks ago. The man had made it clear many times that he would never marry. Yet here he is, holding onto a woman he has fallen in love with. As if she was the biggest client he ever received.

They say if you find the right woman, things change; that you would cross oceans and mountains to have them in your life. A saying that this man (if you had known him weeks ago) would never have even considered to be true.

Then again, people change. (Another phrase he would never have believed.)

Such is the case for Wisconsin's most successful and richest entrepreneur, Robert Cald, and his fiancée, Elizabeth Masters.

She has insisted on keeping her name. A sign of independence and perhaps ownership of oneself which seems to have proven to the public that such a strong man like Cald would change his ways for an equally strong-willed woman.

Which brings us back to tonight. The seemingly casual affair (as casual as the rich can be) is a celebration of the ever prolific Robert Cald gaining his enigma of a wife.

Elizabeth favours all things simple and concise, and so, such an effortless gathering easily meets her requirements to tie the knot.

Sophisticated golf claps and small cheers of congratulations fill the air when Cald plants a hefty kiss on the ruby red lips of Elizabeth Masters while lifting his half glass of scotch in the air.

The festivities end shortly after the display. Guests graciously bid farewells, leaving final wishes and gift baskets.

Gifts had never amused her. They seemed impractical, and she had specifically forbidden them in the invitations. Of course, there were always a few guests who insisted on showing their well wishes by way of useless chocolates and bottles of wine of which they already had a full cellar.

Elizabeth accepts them reluctantly and forces a 'thank you' through gritted teeth.

As the final guests trickle out of the oak double doors, scurrying towards their limousines and Lamborghinis to keep the rain from ruining their million-dollar attire, the silky smooth tune of  _Basin Street Blues_ lilts toward the couple's ears.

_Basin Street is the street…where the elite always meet…_

The woman wraps her thin arms around her husband's neck, taking in the sight of his brown locks and sharp jawline. His eyes crinkle as he smiles down at her wicked blue eyes and tantalizingly soft lips. He pulls her towards him, closing the gap that lay between their two bodies.

_In New Orleans the land of the dreams…_

He reaches down to plant a kiss on her forehead, her nose, the corner of her lip. She lets him tease her, as his lips trail towards her neck. Her skin is cold to the touch, yet he feels a burning sensation flow throughout his body.

His hands explore the muscles on her back as he finally gives in and kisses her full on the lips.

He sees her eyes flicker red.

His lips never meet hers.

_You'll never know how nice it seems…Or what it really means…_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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